Swimming Struggles

I've always had a love-hate relationship with the sport of swimming. My parents signed me up for those kiddie swim classes when I was six years old. I was not only the worst swimmer in the class, but I became even more terrified of water after taking those classes. While my other classmates advanced to other levels and learned to float, kick, and tread, I was still too scared to get into the water. After two failed summers, my parents decided the lessons were a waste of time and accepted the fact that I hated water.

Then a year later, my parents found a private coach in Homer who was notorious for teaching kids how to swim. With my new teacher Maureen, I went from being too scared to get in to being able to swim freestyle the summer of when I was nine years old. That was when I learned to love the sport and the feeling of water moving past me. Seeing how much I loved my lessons, I joined HEAT Swim Team that fall, and once again, I was amongst the worst swimmers there. I was one of the oldest members in Group 2 (the second lowest level out of 5) on the team, and I struggled immensely. Except this time I was driven to be the best. A lot of my friends were in the group levels above me while I was swimming with younger children. From that year forward, I would hardly ever miss a practice with HEAT. I would force my parents to drive me during snow storms, holidays, school breaks, and morning practices. Swimming became my obsession, and as I quickly climbed ranks and surpassed those who had been swimming longer than I was, I felt even more motivated.

But my obsession with the sport led to an unhealthy relationship with it. During races, I would get incredibly nervous. My nerves weren't normal, jittery nerves – they were head-spinning spells where I would feel like I was going to pass out. It was even worse during events such as freestyle or butterfly, as I knew my coaches and parents were pushing me to make cuts. The first time I had an incident at a meet was when I was 11 years old. During the 50 fly, I felt as if I couldn't breathe during my race, and I stopped halfway during my race and got out of the water.  Then when I was 13 at Districts, I was trying to make a cut for the 100 fly. On my third 25, I felt that awful feeling of not being able to breathe and stopped and got out of the water. That day was the last time I swam the 100 fly until my sophomore year at Uni.

After that incident at Districts, I stopped attending practices and dropped my training intensity with HEAT. I also adamantly refused to swim the 100 fly event. Coaches tried to get me to swim it at small meets, but I would not. Then for the next three years at Uni, I would have the support of my team and my coaches who taught me to never focus on the past or future. I was taught breathing exercises and pre-race rituals to help me calm down before races. And my sophomore year at Urbana Aquatic Center, a small meet, I swam the 100 fly flawlessly. And while other people just saw a random girl swimming a 100 fly, it meant the world to me. During the race, it didn't feel like a race. It felt like the 100 fly I used to enjoy swimming before coaches and people started pressing for time cuts. From then on, my relationship with swimming has improved immensely, and while I still get incredibly nervous before big races, I've learned to focus my mind to the present and enjoy the feeling of the water.